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Lila

We lay there in the darkness, tangled up in my cheap dorm-room sheets. The only sounds were our breaths, slowly evening out, and my roommate's little desk clock, ticking away the minutes we had left. The taste of him was still in my mouth. My body felt heavy, bruised in the best way possible, and completely, utterly sated. He was the first to move.

He untangled his arm from around me and sat up, swinging …

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Lila

I leaned against the cool wall, my cheek pressed to the painted cinder blocks, just trying to process the feeling of my roommate's dad's cum running down my ass crack. My body was humming, a network of spent nerves buzzing with pleasure. I've been fucked before, but I've never been fucked like that before.

The raw, frantic energy had peaked and crashed, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. As the real world started to seep back in, one practical question pushed through the haze:

How much time do we have left?

Mark had pulled away and was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest, watching me. I met his gaze as I walked on unsteady legs to my desk and found my phone.

I had to know. The game wasn't over unless I said it was.

I typed out a quick, innocent text to Sarah, my fingers still not quite steady.

Me: Hey, how's the project going? Just checking in. Need us to save you any food or anything?

The reply came almost instantly, the three little dots of her typing making my heart pound with anticipation.

Sarah: Omg MAYA it's a NIGHTMARE. We had to start over from scratch. Literally everything was deleted. We're gonna be in the library for at least another hour. Don't wait up for me lol. And no, I'm good, we ordered a pizza. Thx tho!!

An hour. A satisfied smile spread across my face. Oh, we had plenty of time.

I turned the phone around and showed the screen to Mark. He walked over, his eyes scanning the message. He looked up from the screen and met my gaze, and I saw the question there. He was asking for permission. He was wondering if the fantasy was over.

I wasn't done with him yet. Not even close.

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Lila

"Are you sure?"

The question was a rumble in his chest, a vibration against my own body. I couldn't form words. My world had narrowed to the space between my legs and the dark intent in his eyes. I just gave a short, desperate nod, my hips pushing up off the desk, a silent plea.

Yes. Fuck, yes.

That was all the permission he needed. He pulled back just an inch, just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shove them down past his hips. My breath caught in my throat. In the dim, gray light filtering through the window, his cock sprang free, and it was... amazing.

I'd been with guys before, fumbled around with boys from my classes who were all enthusiastic and quick on the trigger. This was different. This was a man. It was thick, heavier than anything I'd ever seen up close, with a slight upward curve. The head was a dark plum color, slick and glistening with a thick bead of precum.

It was beautiful. It was terrifying. I wanted it more than anything.

He took my hips in his hands, his grip firm and sure, and repositioned me on the very edge of the desk, my legs dangling. He guided the head of his cock to my entrance. I was so wet, I was practically dripping onto the floor, but as the blunt, wide tip of him pressed against me, I knew it was going to be tight.

He pushed, slowly. The thick crown of his cock slid past my outer lips, stretching me in a way I'd never felt. I let out a sharp, involuntary gasp. It was a feeling that was half pain, half the most intense pleasure I'd ever known.

He paused, only the head of him inside me, and looked at my face. He must have seen the shock in my eyes, the mix of pain and wonder. A flicker of something knowing crossed his face.

He'd realized. He knew I'd never had anything like this before.

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Lila

My phone buzzed on the table, a sharp vibration against the dark wood. I glanced down. It was Sarah.

'OMG this is a disaster. It's all gone. We're gonna be here for at least another hour, maybe more. Don't wait up! So sorry again!!'

I slid the phone back onto the table, screen down. An hour. An hour was an eternity. It was a lock clicking open. I looked up at Mark. He was watching me, his expression unreadable as the waitress cleared our flight glasses. He'd seen me look at the phone. He knew.

"Everything okay?" he asked. The question was just a formality. He was really asking, So? What now?

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my voice from giving up my nervousness. "Sarah's going to be a while. Her project group is having a meltdown."

"Ah." A single, soft sound. He nodded slowly, his eyes holding mine. The loud chatter of the brewpub, the clinking glasses, it all just faded into a dull background hum. There was only our table, a tiny island in the middle of a noisy sea. He reached for his wallet. "Well," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Let me get this, and I'll walk you back."

My heart gave a hard thump against my ribs. I'll walk you back. The game was still on.

After he paid, we stood and I shrugged on my thin jacket. As we moved toward the exit, my arm brushed against his, and that familiar jolt of heat shot right through me, sharper and more insistent this time. I was so charged that I was worried I might come just from the friction of my clothes. We walked out into the cool, misty Eugene night.

The ten-minute walk was some of the most loaded silence I'd experienced to that point in my life. The damp air smelled like wet earth and pavement. We walked shoulder-to-shoulder, not touching but close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. Every step on the slick sidewalk was like a drumbeat, counting down. I was hyper-aware of everything: the way the hazy streetlights reflected in his dark hair, the tension in his shoulders, the quiet sound of his breathing. I pictured the look on his face back at the restaurant when he talked about beer, the passion that lit him up.

That's what I wanted. I wanted to be the thing that made him look like that.

We walked through the dorm lobby, past the dozing RA, and into the humming fluorescent box of the elevator. The silence in there was even heavier. I could see our reflections in the scratched metal doors. Me, looking straight ahead, trying to keep my face a mask of casual indifference. Him, his jaw clenched, staring at his own reflection like he didn't recognize the guy looking back.

The elevator dinged. The second-floor hallway was empty, a long, quiet tunnel of closed doors. We stopped in front of mine. 21B. The black plastic numbers seemed to scream at me. Sarah's room.

This was the moment. The point of no return.

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Lila

A couple of months slid by. The Oregon autumn settled in, all crisp air and constant, gray drizzle. Sarah turned out to be a decent roommate. A little clingy, prone to homesickness, but her dad sent her care packages with fancy coffee and snacks from their Portland suburb. And she experimented with drugs with me from time to time, so I couldn't complain. We fell into a rhythm of classes, studying, and the occasional shitty dorm party. It was fine. It was college.

Then I got a text from her. 'My dad's in to…

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xx
Lila

I remember the air on move-in day in my first year of college. It wasn't just hot. It was thick. Thick enough that you could wave your hand in the air and feel like you were slicing something. You could taste the last 50 years of stale beer, dust, and industrial-strength cleaner baked into the cinderblock walls of the dorm. It was the official smell of freedom, I guess, or at least the start of my student loan debt. The hallway was a total shitshow. A chaotic mess of dads in polo shirts sweating through their collars, moms trying to dire…

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